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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014053">Amarula Lodge</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/April_Valentine/pseuds/April_Valentine'>April_Valentine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>After Almost Loud Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe Gives Hugs, M/M, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Needs a Hug, Quiet Sex, Scene we didn't see</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:21:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014053</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/April_Valentine/pseuds/April_Valentine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately after the kill room scene in the movie, Nicky is confused and upset. Joe helps. Instead of immediately boarding the train to get out of South Sudan, the group first stops at a small hotel to rest and re-group.</p><p>"He turned. Joe was on the step below him, his face anxious, uncertain.</p><p>Nicky’s heart echoed Joe’s all too obvious emotions. He took one look and opened his arms. </p><p>Joe was against him, his hands tight around Nicky’s back, pulling him closer. Nicky wrapped himself around Joe, one hand in his hair, the other was around Joe’s shoulders. still clutching the hilt of his bloody sword."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>194</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Amarula Lodge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to my friend Sorran for her beta help. And to rosa_himmelblau for unfaltering support.</p><p>This is my first fic in The Old Guard fandom. Finally, the canon gay relationship we've all been waiting for!<br/></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The shooting was over. Except for the four of them, everyone else in the room was dead. Andy had taken her axe to all the cameras. In silence, they tacitly agreed to get out of that place. </p><p>Tired and angry, they started to make their way out of the black box of a room where they’d been killed and in retaliation, had left no man alive. Nicky was quiet, still attempting to wrap his mind around the event, as he stepped over and around the dead and mangled bodies to the entrance. Out of habit, he pulled the hood back up over his head, as if it could help shield him from viewing the carnage.</p><p>As always, Andy went first, followed by Booker. Then Nicky started up the steps, knowing Joe was following behind him. The silence was ominous. Nicky’s ears were still ringing from the sounds of their guns. He felt defeated. They were alive and together, of course, but they had not accomplished their mission. </p><p>“Nicolo.” Joe’s voice sounded fractured, desperate.</p><p>He turned. Joe was on the step below him, his face anxious, uncertain.</p><p>Nicky’s heart echoed Joe’s all too obvious emotions. He took one look and opened his arms. </p><p>Joe was against him, his hands tight around Nicky’s back, pulling him closer. Nicky wrapped himself around Joe, one hand in his hair, the other around Joe’s shoulders, still clutching the hilt of his bloody sword.</p><p>“Are you all right?” Joe’s voice was worried, breathless.</p><p>“Yes. You?”</p><p>“I’m okay if you’re okay.”</p><p>“Yes, I’m good.” </p><p>Their lips met, all the mutual concern and caring palpable in the sacred, timeless connection between them. </p><p>“You’re sure, habibi?”</p><p>“If you are…”</p><p>“Hey, guys,” Booker’s voice broke through the cloud of love that had enveloped them. “No time for that now.”</p><p>They broke apart. Reassured, Nicky turned, once more ascending the steps, sensing Joe was right behind him. </p><p>It had all been a trap. A set up. A purpose-built maze designed for one thing, to bring them to that room to be killed. </p><p>“There never were any girls,” Andy had gritted out the words and the realization had finally hit him. Even after the shots that had taken them down, even after they’d revived and killed the men who’d murdered them, Nicky had only half believed that they had been led into a trap, so intent had he been on saving the innocent lives of those tender age girls.</p><p>The men who’d cornered them weren’t local fighters who’d kidnapped children for their own reasons. They were dressed in tactical gear, there for one purpose: to snare the four immortals, to film their deaths and resurrections. </p><p>Had those men known what was really going on, Nicky wondered, as they emerged from the tunnel, retracing their steps. He was unable to avoid seeing the pile of shoes that spoke of capture and no way to leave; militants who’d kidnapped little girls would have taken their shoes to prevent them from attempting to escape through the rough terrain.  As they made their way to the outside of the compound, they came across the bodies of the other men they had taken out on their search. Had these men, posing as terrorists, known this job they’d been hired for would be their last? That they were pawns, that they were to be sacrificed by whoever had hired them? </p><p>If all that person had wanted was to prove that he, Joe, Andy and Booker couldn’t die, why couldn’t they have done it without so much collateral damage? Nicky didn’t mind killing for a cause, to protect innocent lives, for the greater good. He didn’t mind killing those who would kill others, whose crimes he was taking vengeance for. </p><p>And while he knew the men he had shot and stabbed here were not good men, he didn’t think it was really fair that their lives had been valued so cheaply. </p><p>He stepped through the fence that Booker had cut open seemingly only moments ago, realizing he’d expected to be helping girls as young as eight and only as old as thirteen through that makeshift exit, holding small hands, soothing their fears, assuring them they would see their parents soon.</p><p>Nicky had spent nearly a thousand years witnessing the horrors of the world, and yet, like now, it often surprised him. The inhumanity of man shouldn’t be capable of hitting him unaware, not after all this time. It reminded him that too often, he could only see the good, the  kindness, the hope, the way they could help those who could not help themselves. Had he been naïve to trust that this was actually a rescue mission? Should he have seen the signs? Listened to Andy when she voiced her misgivings?</p><p>Nicky turned, grasping the edge of the fence as Joe ducked and stepped through. His love’s eyes met his, and he knew Joe could see all his confusion, his sense of defeat and resignation in a single glance. Nicky wanted nothing more than to let himself fall back into Joe’s strong arms, to feel himself surrounded by Joe’s love and understanding, to let him wipe away Nicky’s frustration and foreboding.</p><p>But now was not the time. They couldn’t linger. Someone had been watching on the other end of that camera Andy had bashed with her axe. Someone was even now looking for them. They had to make haste.</p><p>As he passed, Joe’s hand reached out and took hold of Nicky’s shoulder. He squeezed once and then let go, but it was enough for now, Nicky thought. Joe was here, Joe was with him, Joe understood.</p><p>It was past dawn when Andy decided they had gotten far enough away. They stopped, and in the early light they peeled off their damaged gear, wiping off the worst of the blood on their skin with water they’d carried, using only a little for drinking, and burying their now useless things in a hastily dug pit. </p><p>Joe mentioned the shoes, how that detail, however grotesque, had backed up the fiction that somewhere in that compound, the kidnapped girls were there, just waiting to be rescued. Nicky winced inwardly at the reference.</p><p>Anger radiated off Andy in waves as she sat to the side. Nicky understood but he had no way to comfort her, only platitudes.  </p><p>“We did it right, Andy, for the right reasons,” he began. He still believed that – still wanted to, at least.</p><p>“And what did it get us, Nicky?” Andy cut him off. “What?”</p><p>He had no answer. All he could do was meet her gaze, feel her frustration and anger. All he had was his own remorse. He’d wanted the mission. After a year, he felt they had been neglecting their duties to the world. He’d worked to persuade her. And this is how it turned out.</p><p>Andy went on, proclaiming that the world wasn’t getting any better, that it was actually getting worse. Nicky realized that when they stepped back, took a break, it was hard to see that. He and Joe had lived for the past year in their comfortable bubble, sometimes going for weeks at a time without so much as checking the news. Now here they were, miles from civilization in a war torn land. Somewhere, he assumed, there were school children that had actually been kidnapped, girls that were scared, boys forced into becoming soldiers, families torn apart… what could the four of them expect to do anyway? They could take certain jobs and try to help -- but in the scheme of things, there was only so much they could accomplish anyway. The four of them couldn’t be on every continent at once, couldn’t save everyone. It had been a pipe dream, the ultimate hubris.</p><p>Still crouched over the hole they’d tossed their bloody clothes into, Booker was muttering an apology.</p><p>“I checked him out thoroughly,” he said, his voice low. “Everything seemed legit.”</p><p>Nicky noticed Booker couldn’t seem to meet any of their gazes when he added, “I’m sorry, guys.”</p><p>Andy, still furious, said, “They know who we are. They know <i>what</i> we are.”</p><p>Her words chilled Nicky beyond the cool of the early morning. He had realized that, but he had pushed it to the back of his mind. </p><p>“We have to find Copley. We have to tie this thing off.”</p><p>That was true. Nicky knew it was what they must do. </p><p>Andy continued to voice her anger, with the world, with their efforts that seemed so inconsequential, finally muttering, “I’m done.” With that, she kicked some rocks into the pit they’d dug, picked up her backpack and her labrys and started off.</p><p>With nothing else he could do, Nicky bent to retrieve his sword and backpack, watching as Joe took several steps in the opposite direction, as if to deal with his frustration. He could see the fatigue and displeasure in Joe’s posture, in his every move. Nicky felt the same. Comforting each other would have to wait.</p><p>He waited until Joe caught up to him, then they headed in the direction Andy and Booker had taken.</p><p>*****</p><p>They walked for hours with no conversation. He and Joe communicated with eye contact and brief touches. Nicky knew Joe had been looking forward to the mission, glad to be back at the work they’d chosen, eager to use the skills they’d honed over the centuries. Nicky too had been glad for the chance to fight side by side with him, to cover Joe’s back, to be there in case he was injured, feeling safe with Joe at his side.</p><p>It was supposed to have been easy. The guards they’d faced as they had made their entry into the camp had not been experienced and were easily dispatched. They had expected some resistance but they hadn’t dreamed they would face professionally trained shooters in a dark room built for the sole purpose of killing them and bringing their immortality to light.</p><p>The ambush had been a total shock. None of them had even managed to get off a shot when their attackers had opened fire. Nicky had felt hits to his arms, his legs, his head and shoulders, high caliber rounds had even penetrated the body armor he wore. It was too fast, too devastating, the bullets ripping into him, causing pain, inflicting terror. He knew the others were being blasted as well, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t find Joe with his eyes, he could only be tossed forward and back like a broken puppet by the endless seeming barrage, until he was on his knees and then on his face, dying once again.</p><p>And then he had come back, his body mending itself rapidly. He’d pushed up slightly, eyes still regaining focus, and his first clear vision was of Joe, looking beyond Andy’s still unmoving body in relief when he saw that Nicky had opened his eyes. Nicky had managed a half smile of relief.</p><p>The four of them, well practiced over centuries of dying in battle, knew better than to speak, to keep their gasps for air as quiet as possible, to rein in groans or moans from residual pain. They couldn’t know if they were alone or not. Their attackers could have left as quickly as they had come, or they might be still there. Nicky vaguely imagined the girls being quietly gathered and even now being run out of the camp by their captors. </p><p>Then, as they were slowly taking stock of their physical condition, he detected movement from the men in front of them. The room was large; Nicky could hear footsteps, murmured words. They were not alone. He glanced forward. The men weren’t facing their bodies. He felt his family stirring beside him, knew what had to be done. </p><p>As they got to their feet, gasps of astonishment came from the heavily armed attackers. And then, no decision, no signal needed, it was on. Their opponents barely got off a shot as the team went into action with only one goal in mind, shooting, stabbing, utterly slaying those who had killed them only moments before. Nicky had looked around at the scattered bodies. So many… he didn’t take the time to count them. Now that he thought about it, he realized that in setting them up, Copley had opted for overkill. That many men would have taken out a group of only four mortal fighters easily. What did he think would happen if their victims were immortal? Did he think they’d climb back to their feet, shake hands with the other fighters and grin about what a good joke that had been?</p><p>Copley had sent those men to their deaths. There was no expectation of a fair fight. Joe, Andy, Booker and he had been ambushed, and the team had decided centuries ago that when something like this happened, they could leave no survivors, no one to pass along the story of people who had been shot dead and then got up to fight some more. And no one to take them prisoner. </p><p>Being captured was never an option.</p><p>Nicky shuddered, a sudden chill, despite the climate, running through his body.</p><p>Slightly ahead of him, Joe noticed. Because of course he did.</p><p>Joe turned to the side, arm outstretched for his partner. Nicky stepped into his space, Joe’s strong arm falling around his shoulders, pulling Nicky against his side even as they kept walking. He hadn’t let himself think about how badly he wanted Joe to hold him until that minute.</p><p>“Habibi?” Joe’s voice, soft, only for him. His breath, wafting across Nicky’s cheek. Nicky’s steps faltered to a halt and he leaned toward Joe, exhaustion overtaking him all at once.</p><p>Joe moved closer, wrapping both arms around him. Joe pressed his cheek against Nicky’s face, tugging him closer. Nicky resisted the urge to sag against Joe’s body, to collapse to the ground and just sleep, secure in the knowledge that Joe was holding him, would hold him as long as he needed.</p><p>Joe’s arms held him close, held him steady. Joe’s hand stroked over the back of Nicky’s head comfortingly, soothing him. He felt Joe draw a breath to call out to their companions.</p><p>“Hey, guys,” he said, “anybody wanta say where it is we’re going?”</p><p>Up ahead, Nicky was aware of Booker stopping, though he didn’t turn to look back. Beyond him, Andy stopped and she did turn, eyeing Joe and Nicky without surprise. </p><p>Nicky withdrew a bit from Joe’s embrace. “We’re tired, boss. It’s been over 24 hours. We’ve walked miles. We were killed. There were a lot of bullets. And we’re still walking.”</p><p>“A lot of bullets,” Joe agreed. “I can feel a couple of them rattling around in my pants right now.” At Nicky’s look of surprise, he added, “must have taken awhile to work their way out of my body.” Eyebrows raised, he looked as if he wanted to say, <i>well, it could happen.</i></p><p>That brought a smile to Nicky. He wanted to help Joe out of those pants, to look for those bullets and more…</p><p>Andy sighed and tilted her head from side to side, stretching out her own fatigue. “We couldn’t get another helicopter, you realize.”</p><p>“We get it,” Joe nodded. Though they wanted to find Copley, it wasn’t exactly a good idea to call the same company Copley had hired and stand there waiting to be captured. They needed to go underground, off the grid. Find the man on their terms.</p><p>“It’s only a few more miles to Wau,” Andy then explained. Nicky recognized the name of the city, the second largest in the country. “I figure we can make a pit stop there and then take a train out of Wau and into Uganda.”</p><p>“Can we get some sleep?” Nicky asked. They might be immortal but they weren’t super humans who never needed food or rest. </p><p>Booker pulled out a map, looked skyward as if to determine their location and then studied the wrinkled document. “There’s a little hotel,” he informed them. “On the outskirts of town. Might not be too bad.”</p><p>“I don’t care if it’s got nothing but straw mats on the floor,” Nicky responded with a tired sigh.</p><p>“We need to be careful,” Andy reminded them. Then she shook her head, evidently relenting. “Okay. We could all at least use a shower, I guess.”</p><p>An hour later, they finally began seeing some signs of civilization. A few huts at first, then more of them grouped together, then a large herd of cattle, and finally more and more tents and small buildings with thatched roofs, indicating they had reached the city.</p><p>They passed a market, a soccer stadium that was quiet and appeared empty, along with a Catholic cathedral named St. Mary’s. There was a time when Nicky would have felt compelled to enter a church like this, to light a candle for the men he had killed, to kneel and briefly pray. But that time was not now. He felt hollow, wrung out. All he wanted was to sleep in Joe’s arms.</p><p>All of their steps were dragging by the time they saw the sign for the Amarula Lodge. Relief flooded through Nicky. He slipped an arm around Joe’s waist, practically dragging him toward their destination.</p><p>“I’d be careful, if I were you,” Booker told them. “You know it’s illegal here.” He glanced pointedly at how close they were to each other, at Nicky’s arm tight about Joe’s waist.</p><p>“Yeah, I think there’s fines and imprisonment,” Andy added. </p><p>“A hundred lashes,” Booker put in. “To say nothing of people deciding to simply beat you up.”</p><p>Nicky reluctantly dropped his arm and stood a bit further from Joe. This was nothing new to them. Down through the centuries, they had often had to hide their relationship. It was so nice that in many areas of the modern world they could be totally open. The last year had been spent in Amsterdam and it had been wonderful there. Now, back in a country that outlawed their love, Nicky knew they would have to be much more careful.</p><p>The four exhausted travelers approached the hotel, almost too tired to take much note of its appearance. They just wanted out of the heat, a place to rest and maybe some food.</p><p>They walked into the lobby, which felt cool and dark compared to the brightness and heat of the outdoors. Despite the many weapons they carried, they tried to look unobtrusive and non-threatening. Andy went up to the desk and came back with three keys.</p><p>“You two are in a double,” she told them, dropping one of the keys into Joe’s hand, and offering another to Booker. “We’re each in a single on either side of you.” She nodded and led the group out of the main building and around the side, where they found a line of white washed cabins that were to be their accommodations. </p><p>“Anybody hungry?” Booker asked, nodding toward the round shaped open-air restaurant in the center of the court. </p><p>“We’ll order room service,” Joe told the others. He’d pointed out the sign for it in the lobby to Nicky – printed in English, Arabic, Nuer and Swahili. </p><p>“It might be better if we don’t use the restaurant.” Nicky indicated the small gathering of guests, some obviously tourists, their white faces standing out, but most more likely to be from South Sudan or the surrounding African countries. It was time for the mid day meal, so the place was crowded. He didn’t want to be out in public in a country which outlawed homosexuality when he needed Joe the way he did. “We’re… tired.”</p><p>“Keep it down,” Andy reminded them in a husky whisper, turning to open the door to her cabin. She dropped her backpack and weapons inside, then re-emerged. “I don’t know about you, Book, but I need a drink.”</p><p>He nodded vigorously, not even bothering to stow his gear before following her toward the bar area. In this war torn country, no one was likely to raise an eyebrow at someone carrying weapons.</p><p>Nicky and Joe exchanged a look, then turned to climb the three concrete steps up to the door of their cabin. Joe used the key and swung the door wide, ushering Nicky inside. Joe followed, closing and locking the door behind them.</p><p>The interior was simply decorated, but welcoming. Light colored hardwood floors, walls painted white, simple, unembellished furniture, and blue curtains waving in the breeze from the open windows greeted them. There were two beds with no headboards, with spreads covering them that were also blue. There was a tiny fridge against the far wall with a small TV set on top, next to a simple desk and metal chair. Joe strode forward, opening the door of the fridge to switch the appliance on. He then located the air conditioner on the opposite wall and turned its dial on as well. Immediately cold air began blasting out. On his way to close the windows, he glanced at Nicky, who remained where he stood in the middle of the room. </p><p>He felt so exhausted that he was unsure what to do next.  He had noted the nearby bathroom door and wanted to shower. But he also wanted to simply drop onto the nearest mattress and sleep for days.</p><p>Joe moved past him, entering the bathroom and Nicky heard the water go on in the shower. Okay, shower first, then. He was relieved that Joe had made that decision for them.  His eyes closed and he just stood there, telling himself he’d start getting undressed in a moment or two.</p><p>The next thing he knew, he was swaying forward, having fallen asleep on his feet. Joe was right beside him, arms reaching out, to keep him from crashing to the floor.</p><p>“Sorry,” Nicky mumbled against Joe’s shoulder. </p><p>“You’re tired, my heart,” Joe said mildly. “Let’s get cleaned up and then we can sleep.”</p><p>He stroked his fingers through Nicky’s hair, then took hold of the PGM Ultima sniper rifle that was strapped to Nicky’s back and slid it off, placing it on the bed on the left side of the room.</p><p>“I need to clean it,” Nicky slurred, attempting to reach for the weapon. </p><p>“Yes, of course,” Joe said agreeably. “But not right now.” He then unbuckled the belt that held the scabbard with Nicky’s longsword. The belt hooked to the scabbard with a metal hook in the back, so it took a moment for Joe to get that undone. Nicky could strap on the long belt, hook the strap of the scabbard to the belt and secure the sword in seconds, but his fingers wouldn’t cooperate right now and though Joe had taken care of it for him many times, his lover was tired now as well. Finally the sword was free, clanking as it was dropped beside the sniper rifle on the bed.</p><p>Finally, Joe reached for the straps of the heavy backpack and slid them down Nicky’s arms, letting it fall so it landed on the floor beside them. Nicky hadn’t realized until he’d been freed of the weight of his weapons and pack how heavy they were. </p><p>“Better?” Joe’s soft whisper brushed his ear. Nicky could only nod and sigh in response. He tried to help with his jacket and t-shirt, but Joe was ahead of him. He also batted Nicky’s hands away from his belt when he fumbled to try to do that part.</p><p>“Are you crazy?” Joe teased. “You’d let me do all the hard work and then deny me taking your pants off?”</p><p>Nicky sputtered out a laugh and let Joe undo his belt and pull his zipper down, then, as Joe skimmed the snug pants down his legs, he dropped to sit on the bed. Joe had bent down to work the pants and underwear off, ending up on his knees when Nicky sat down.</p><p>He looked up at Nicky then, consternation in his gaze. “Forgot the boots,” he said ruefully. “And I was trying to be so seductive doing this.”</p><p>Nicky leaned forward to kiss him. “You seduced me a thousand years ago.” Their lips lingered a moment before they reluctantly broke apart. Both of them bent to undo the laces of Nicky’s boots and finally, socks and boots gone, Nicky felt the relief of being totally naked. He sighed, long and deep, and made to recline back onto the bed.</p><p>“No, you don’t,” Joe said, taking his hand to pull him back into a sitting position. </p><p>“Right,” Nicky said, smothering a yawn. Noting that Joe had already dropped his own backpack with his scimitar strapped to it and yanked off his shirt, he made a grab for Joe’s belt. “I almost forgot I wanted to find those bullets.” </p><p>Joe laughed lightly, toeing off his boots and bending slightly, tugging off his socks, kicking his footwear to the side.</p><p>Joe’s pants were considerably looser than the ones Nicky had been wearing. When he’d undone the belt and zipper, only the slight pressure of his fingers was enough to get them sliding downward. As they hit the floor, both of them heard the tinny sound of metal dropping. Nicky bent over, felt around under Joe’s pants and came up with two misshapen bullets. “You weren’t just kidding,” he observed. Joe shrugged. </p><p>“They were probably just stuck to all that blood,” he said. They hadn’t had enough water to rinse themselves off thoroughly when they’d changed clothes at dawn, using it mostly to wipe at their faces, arms and hands. </p><p> He looked over Joe’s legs and found a thicker smudge of blood, most likely where one of the bullets had stuck to his skin, only loosening later as they walked. It was right at Joe’s knee. Nicky massaged the stain lightly, even knowing the wound no longer hurt. Then he glanced up, meeting Joe’s eyes. </p><p>“Where was the other one?” </p><p>Joe just shrugged. “I actually don’t think I want to know.”</p><p>Nicky grasped Joe’s hips, urging him to turn slightly. “Not back here, I hope.” He ran his hands over Joe’s muscular backside. It would be so easy to just stay down there on his knees and make things more interesting; he was feeling a little less sluggish already, awakened as always by the sight of Joe’s beautiful body. </p><p>But Joe had other things in mind. “We’ll run out of hot water, habibi,” he said, mock sternly, taking hold of Nicky’s shoulders to drag him up to his feet. “Let’s shower, please?”</p><p>“Of course, amore mio,” Nicky agreed. There would be plenty of time to explore each other later.</p><p>Joe had let the water run at a trickle while it heated up, now he twisted the faucet up to allow the shower to run at full force.The water was thundering down, hot and clean, filling the tiny bathroom with steam. Joe stepped into the tub and under the spray first, then carefully guided Nicky in next to him. </p><p>He sighed as the water cascaded over his body, soothing the aches caused by their long hike over night and all day today, washing away the blood that lingered on their skin. Using the hotel provided soap, Joe took his time going over Nicky’s back, massaging all the soreness away, then tenderly making sure all his wounds were healed on the rest of his body, that there was nothing remaining to cause him pain. They knew they always healed, but especially when the injuries had been this severe, they felt a need to see for themselves. </p><p>Joe had discovered dozens of spots that indicated wounds to Nicky’s legs and shoulders. He washed the blood away, kissing each spot once he’d cleaned it, his lips exquisitely gentle. Nicky sighed and began to relax much more, his utter exhaustion giving way to sweet fatigue.</p><p>“So many bullets,” Joe repeated Nicky’s words from earlier. “I don’t like knowing you felt that much pain.” His hand rubbed comfortingly down Nicky’s chest and across his stomach, gently soothing the softness there. </p><p>“You felt the same,” Nicky responded, mouthing a spot on Joe’s shoulder where a lot of blood had been dried. “It was so sudden, so deliberate. They came from all directions.” He shuddered a little, just thinking about it. “I knew I was dying. I tried to turn toward you… but I couldn’t.” </p><p>“When I awoke, I looked for you first,” Joe told him, his voice soft with tenderness.</p><p>“I know.” Nicky kissed his cheek. “You were the first sight my eyes could see.”  He knew the statements they’d just made surprised neither of them. But the reassurance was something they always gave each other anyway.</p><p>Joe’s arms came up around his shoulders. Nicky’s hands rested at Joe’s waist. Their grasps tightened, and they were soon in a full body embrace. It was a little desperate, a lot comforting, passion just under the surface, despite how tired they were. Their mouths came together, open and wet, kissing with reverence and long held love.</p><p>Nicky nuzzled under Joe’s beard, licking up water drops, open-mouthed kisses sucking at the soft wet skin of his throat, wishing he could mark it, understanding that his marks were as fleeting as the bullet holes on Joe’s perfect flesh, but wishing that somehow he could inscribe this man permanently with his love as if it could form a shield about his body so that Joe could never be hurt again.</p><p>The water was becoming cooler. Joe stroked Nicky’s cheeks, wet hands delving into his hair, eyes memorizing every line of his face. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I will always be here.” </p><p>“I love you,” Nicky said simply, putting all that he felt into his words, his eyes, as they gazed at one another. </p><p>Finally, feeling the water’s chill, Joe let go of him just enough to bend and turn off the shower. He kept an arm around Nicky’s waist as he led him out of the tub, grabbing a towel as he went. Nicky took one too, using it to drape over Joe’s head to dry his curls while Joe used his to rub over Nicky’s upper body. Only partially dry, they emerged from the bathroom and stumbled toward the bed that didn’t contain weapons and clothing. Joe pulled back the spread with a flourish and guided Nicky down to the surface of the mattress.</p><p>Nicky gave a huge sigh as he got horizontal at last. “This is much more comfortable than it looks,” he announced. He reached up for Joe, needing him to join him in the bed. “Or maybe that’s just how tired I am.”</p><p>Joe dropped their towels onto the floor and was just heading toward Nicky, when a sudden knock sounded at their door.</p><p>Both men froze, the mellow feelings evaporating. Joe grabbed his backpack, unzipping it hurriedly, searching for something to put on. </p><p>He slowed his frantic movements when they heard Booker’s urgent whisper. “It’s just me, guys. I brought you some food.”</p><p>Joe had found his boxers by then, so he slid them on before he went to open the door. He glowered down at Booker who was holding a covered tray. Nicky stifled a chuckle as he watched from the bed.</p><p>Booker cleared his throat and the next words he said were not whispered. “I knew you and your cousin must be hungry,” he announced, as if to inform any listeners that Joe and Nicky were related. </p><p>“Ah yes, Cousin Nicolo was just saying how he was starving.” Joe reached for the tray and took it from Booker.</p><p>“Andy and I are going to get some sleep. You should too,” Booker went on. “The train for Gulu in Uganda leaves at 6 a.m.” </p><p>It was obvious that both Joe and Booker heard Nicky’s groan. </p><p>Booker rolled his eyes and nodded at Joe. “Enjoy the food. The restaurant is pretty good.”</p><p>“Thank you, Booker,” Joe told him. “This was very thoughtful of you.” At times, Booker seemed annoyed by their relationship, but then he’d do something like this. The gesture of bringing them food so they didn’t have to venture out to the restaurant or call for room service and then have to open the door when it was delivered was very much appreciated. </p><p>Nicky sat up in bed as Joe returned to the room. He could smell the food and was suddenly ravenous. </p><p>“This was good of Booker to do,” he said as Joe climbed under the covers with him and placed the tray on the mattress between them. “Sometimes I know it bothers him when we are too expressive in his presence.”</p><p>“Yes, it must be hard for him,” Joe returned. He lifted the napkin off the food tray, revealing a beef stew with tomatoes and green peppers, fragrant with cardamom and cinnamon. There was flat bread, overflowing dishes of lentils, mashed fava beans with boiled eggs, salads with corn and thin sliced red onions, a plate of olives and a carafe of strong coffee.</p><p>“Ah, mandazi!” Nicky sighed, lifting up one of the fried pieces of soft dough he loved. He bit into it, the fluffy texture and slight sweetness already making him feel much better. “African comfort food,” he marveled. </p><p>They were quiet as they practically gorged themselves on the food. It had been hours since they’d had more than an energy bar between them, not having planned to be so long in the region. Later, drowsy and sated, Joe removed the tray and sat it on the nightstand next to their bed as Nicky slid down against the cool sheets. Joe rejoined him, sliding his legs between Nicky’s and wrapping him in his arms.</p><p>“Wait a minute,” Nicky said, reaching to grasp the elastic at Joe’s waist. “Take these off first.”</p><p>Joe sighed in pretended annoyance but he shimmied out of his boxers and tossed them in the general direction of their rumpled clothes, then returned to his previous position, holding Nicky close with their legs slotted together, Nicky’s head on his shoulder. </p><p>Nicky looked up at the face he loved so well. “This is much better,” he breathed, feeling content at last. He leaned in to kiss Joe deeply. </p><p>Joe reached up and loosened the tie around the mosquito netting, letting it fall over the bed to cover them. Not that insect bites were much of a bother to the two immortals, but it would be good not to have their sleep interrupted.</p><p>Then, by mutual agreement, Joe rolled them over so that he could spoon up against Nicky’s back, both arms wrapped around him. Nicky shifted, loving the feel of Joe’s bare body pressing along the full length of his own. The last thing he felt as he drifted into sleep was Joe’s soft lips on his cheek.</p><p>*****</p><p>
  <i> They waited quietly while their wounds healed, then got to their feet and ran forward in attack mode, intent on killing the men who, moments before, had killed them.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>They went down easily, no match for Andy’s axe, his sword, Joe’s scimitar or Booker’s guns. In mere seconds, they were all on the floor. Dead.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>As they gasped for breath and wiped blood off their faces, the lights in the kill room went out. “Nicky?” Joe’s voice called his name. Nicky couldn’t find him in the dark.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Then, the sound of more gunshots, just as the glaring lights came on. Louder this time. Higher caliber bullets, flash bang grenades… he was hit, hit again, knocked down, bullets zinged past his ear, lodged in his brain, knee-capped him, broke his shoulders… he fell, dying once more.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>His eyes opened. Joe was nearby, reaching for his hand. Nicky tried to clasp Joe’s but his fingers were smashed, broken, unable to move… </i>
</p><p>
  <i>The lights went out again.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Then blinked on. Nicky was in the middle of gasping awake. He got to his knees, pulling his sword up with him. The fingers of one hand still weren’t working, but his other hand could grasp the longsword, bring it up, cut down the enemies who were still there attempting to take them out. Were these the same soldiers or new ones? He couldn’t tell. Did it matter? They were under attack. They had to defend themselves.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He stabbed, shoved a man in Joe’s direction. Joe finished the guy off with his scimitar, stood for a second looking down at the dead guy.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>A shadow moved. “Joe, behind you!” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Joe whirled, but too late. A scarily huge scythe cut him down. He dropped like a stone at Nicky’s feet, nearly cleaved in two. Nicky went to his knees, barely felt the heavy weapon collide with his skull. By the time he dropped on top of Joe’s dead body, Nicky’s life was extinguished too.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It went on and on. Die. Revive. Fight. Die again. Always there were more attackers, always with larger, more deadly weapons. A grenade blew them up. Fire burned them to death. Acid poured from the roof.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He woke again to the sound of high-pitched shrieking. He looked up. A guided missile was hurtling toward them. “JOE!” He couldn’t see him through the smoke and fire but he knew only one thing. He needed Joe with him, whether this was to be their final death or if their dying was to go on and on and on. He’d been blown up before, and knew it was a hideous, terrifying death… “Joe?” His voice broke, tears rending his throat. His hands reached.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Familiar fingers brushed his own.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The missile hit. How strange to feel your body fly apart…</i>
</p><p>“Joe! Joe! Where are you? Joe! Joe?” </p><p>Alive again, all he could do was gasp. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe.</p><p>“Joe…?” he begged. He coughed, the air an unfamiliar barrier between life and death.</p><p>“Please… Joe?”</p><p>Hands grabbed at his shoulders, holding him down. He attempted to wrench himself free, but they were strong. Then a body covered him, heavy but recognizable. He tried to respond. He took huge gulps of air, blinking the smoke and destruction out of his eyes. </p><p>Very close to him, a voice said, “Hayati, I’m here. You’re okay. You’re okay.”</p><p>Balanced on the tip of a very sharp knife, he tried to hold himself still, to focus.</p><p>“That’s it. I’m here. It’s okay. Nicky, come back to me. Nicky…”</p><p>He was afraid to move – if he didn’t hold perfectly still, he’d  slide down the blade to his death.</p><p>“Nicky. My heart. My love. It’s okay. You can wake up now.”</p><p>The utter patience in that voice called to him. It was something he trusted. Instinctively. Absolutely.<br/>
“That’s it. Breathe now. Breathe with me. In… and out.”</p><p>He did what the voice told him to do. His heart stopped pounding so hard. His breath came easier. His panic lifted. </p><p>He blinked and his eyes could focus. </p><p>“Joe…” The name was a sigh, a prayer. </p><p>“That’s it, habibi. You’re here.”</p><p>His vision cleared. He could see Joe’s face above him, his brows furrowed, his expression worried.</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“You were dreaming. A nightmare. I’ve got you now.”</p><p>Nicky drew in a deep breath. The air felt okay, not oppressive, no longer filled with smoke and smelling of gunpowder. He lifted his head to look around.</p><p>They were in their little cabin at the Amarula Lodge. Safe. Together. The air-conditioned room was cool and quiet. Joe switched on a lamp and then Nicky could see a little, though the light was diffused by the sheer fabric of their mosquito netting. </p><p>“Middle of the night?” he asked, eyes turning back to Joe.</p><p>“About three-thirty.” Joe kissed his forehead. “You scared me.”</p><p>“I was scared.”</p><p>“What was it about? Do you remember? Would it help to tell me about it?”</p><p>It always helped to tell Joe. </p><p>Nicky ran a hand over his face and through his hair. From somewhere, Joe produced a bottle of cold water. Taking off the cap, Joe handed it to him. Nicky took a long, long drink.</p><p>Feeling better, he handed the bottle back to Joe, who took a smaller swig and replaced the cap. He stroked a hand through Nicky’s hair and settled him comfortably against his shoulder. </p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>Nicky nodded and took a deep breath. “We were back there.” He heard the sound of hesitation in his own voice, swallowed, cleared his throat and tried again. “In the black room.”</p><p>“It was happening again?”</p><p>“Over and over.”</p><p>Joe’s expressive eyebrows rose. “The same way every time?”</p><p>“No. They came out shooting, like before. We died. They came out again. Or maybe… it was more of them. Because we killed the first ones.”</p><p>Joe stroked Nicky’s tense shoulder, waiting.</p><p>“They had more weapons, bigger ones. They killed us. More came, when we came back to life, they killed us again.” He closed his eyes, shuddering. “A scythe. Grenades. Fire… acid. Then all at once, a missile – bomb… something.”</p><p>“Habibi…”</p><p>“I don’t like to explode.” </p><p>Joe pulled him closer. “I don’t like that either.”</p><p>“I was afraid. My hand wasn’t healing.” He said that part very softly. </p><p>Joe’s lips brushed his cheek, his nose. </p><p>“Is that what’s going to happen? We will be attacked, over and over? Do they want us dead? Alive? Are we killing people for them?”</p><p>“Nicky…”</p><p>“I need to know, Joe. Why did they do it? Just to prove we can’t die? It has to be more. Copley did this… but why? What for?” He felt himself growing more and more tense as he spoke.</p><p>“I don’t know. But we’ll be together. We’ll figure it out and we’ll get through this. We’ll stop him.”</p><p>Nickly closed his eyes and answered. “I hope so. I do not want to face death for the rest of my life, with no living in between.”</p><p>“We won’t, my heart.”</p><p>“But…”</p><p>“No, don’t do this to yourself.” Joe tugged him closer, kissing him, gentle as ever.</p><p>But Nicky needed more. “I want to live, Joe,” he said, wishing he could fully explain. But to explain, he needed to understand it himself. He cupped Joe’s face between his hands. “I don’t want to lose you. I want <i>us</i> to live.” He crushed their mouths together.</p><p>Joe responded. His lips went from the softest tenderness to urgent craving, from chaste comfort to deep desire. His mouth opened under Nicky’s lips, hungry and anxious, open, wet and devouring. </p><p>Nicky plunged his tongue inside, plundered Joe’s mouth, sucking, seductive. Joe was his everything, he needed him more than breath, more than water to drink. He rolled Joe onto his back, hungry kisses continuing, his body sliding up and down Joe’s, hips grinding, bringing them closer.  Joe was hard and leaking under him. He wanted Joe… but more, he wanted to be taken by Joe. He grasped Joe’s shoulders, rolling them over so Nicky was on his back, Joe covering him.</p><p>He parted his legs, clenching his knees around Joe’s hips. He arched his back, slid his hand between their tight-pressed bodies, and encircled Joe’s hardness. He stroked him, fast and demanding, the way Joe liked when they felt this urgent, needed each other so badly.</p><p>Nicky rolled his hips up, pressing into Joe’s groin, his own shaft rigid and dripping.</p><p>“Fuck me, Joe,” he pleaded. “Show me we’re alive. Fuck me.”</p><p>Joe’s hand slid between them, down, around and under, fingers stiff and searching. He pushed against Nicky’s perineum just right and Nicky felt the jolt in his prostate. He grunted out his pleasure, parting his legs wider. “More, Joe,” he grated. “Give me…” Joe’s fingers found his entrance, with no hesitation or lube, they plunged in, dry and stiff, opening him rudely, forcefully. Nicky knew Joe understood he wanted this, knew what Nicky needed and it wasn’t tender or gentle.</p><p>They’d been together for centuries, had had all the conversations, made all the decisions, consent had been given and understood. There was no need for negotiation, no permission they hadn’t exchanged. </p><p>Joe shoved into Nicky, his fingers stiff and imperative, making way for what Nicky wanted from him, what Joe would take. Crooking those demanding fingers, Joe found what he sought, pressing, stroking, stabbing the pleasure center of Nicky’s body.</p><p>“Ahh!” Nicky’s voice broke on what was almost a scream. “Yes, Joe…”</p><p>With a suddenness that felt like torture, Joe stopped, pulled his fingers free, his mouth covering Nicky’s to muffle his sobbing pleas. </p><p>“Uhnn,” Nicky’s voice sounded hollowed out, desperate, confused by the denial. He pulled back from Joe’s mouth. “Joe? What? Why?”</p><p>Joe kissed him again, gentle this time. Parting their lips by mere millimeters then, he breathed out, “Shhh… quietly, my love.” He bestowed another kiss. “We can’t be so loud. Not here. The walls are thin.”</p><p>Nicky gasped for air, his fingers clutching against Joe’s back. He sounded shaky to his own ears. Joe proceeded to stroke his back, his thighs, soothing him, bringing Nicky down, easing his urgency. Gradually, the tension in Nicky’s limbs eased. Joe’s hands caressed him, still gentle but so loving, banishing the desperation, softening the desire. </p><p>“That’s it,” he whispered, lips caressing Nicky’s throat. “No screaming tonight, my Nicolo.” He pulled Nicky to him, hands cupping his rear, massaging and squeezing, still possessive, easing Nicky’s demands lest his vocal lover bring down the authorities on them.  “Not tonight. Not here. When we’re home and safe,” he whispered, breath flowing over Nicky’s ear, gentling  him like a frightened colt. </p><p>“Yes. Yes… I understand,” Nicky assured him. For a moment, he’d forgotten what country they were in. He wanted Joe desperately, but he had no desire to be arrested, condemned for their love. </p><p>“There now,” Joe murmured against Nicky’s chest. His full lips softly taking a nipple to please, sucking it to hardness. He licked the stiff nub, tasting Nicky’s flesh, taking charge of their lovemaking again but at this softer pace, tender instead of rough. “I’ll take care of you, Nico,” Joe promised him. “Remember those nights in the desert when we dared not cry out?” Nicky, breathless, nodded, tangled his fingers in Joe’s curls. “I satisfied you then, yes?” Joe’s hand slid low, cupping and fondling Nicky’s erection, entreating it to grow again, to come back to full hardness after the interruption.</p><p> Nicky was an open nerve, needing Joe any way he could have him now, the anxiousness easing as love rushed in to soothe his fears of death and destruction. His body writhed under Joe’s weight, aware of his lover’s need and arousal.</p><p>They found their rhythm, practiced for hundreds of years, first under the Arabian stars, stretched out together on shifting sands, when they’d decided they would never kill each other again, that they would give each other only pleasure and love until the earth came to its end.</p><p>Their bodies stropped against each other, up and down, languid and loving, rubbing hardness against hardness, wetness against wetness. Nicky was rising on the tide Joe created, an ocean of love surrounding him; he couldn’t die and neither could the beautiful man who held him, who made him feel all things. Here, warm and private, sharing their secret, away from curious and judging eyes, they were one, together, lovers even death could not part. </p><p>This was how they’d started, Nicky remembered, baring their bodies to each other, stroking and exploring, rubbing off against each other, smothering the sounds of their pleasure against each other’s mouths. It had taken years for them to try new ideas, decades to become more daring, but they had often come back to this, rubbing off against each other, two men, once enemies, now the purest of lovers, finding each other in the incomprehensible world of a war in which neither of them could ever die.</p><p>Nicky kept his eyes open and locked with Joe’s, higher and higher on an ocean’s wave that couldn’t crest, not yet, but almost, almost… there… there… yes… <i>yes! </i></p><p>He pressed his lips together, not letting even a murmur escape, arms tightening around Joe’s shoulders, the flex and pull and stretch of Joe’s body pulling him inside out, over with the wave, splashing on the shore, spilling together, allowing their seed to mingle. Perfect.</p><p>“That’s it.” Joe’s voice was gruff, pleasured out, deeply satisfied. “You okay now?”</p><p>Nicky nodded, kissing Joe sloppily, shivering as Joe massaged their semen into their skin, his voice a deep chuckle. “So good. You?”</p><p> “You make me feel so good. My love, my heart, my always.”</p><p>“You poet,” Nicky smiled up at him. “You incurable romantic.”<br/>
Joe nuzzled against Nicky’s nose, letting out a soft hum of satisfaction. </p><p>A sudden knock against the wall of their cabin broke into the afterglow and they exchanged a look of chagrin. Then Andy’s voice came at the door. “Hey, in there. Get up! We’ve got to get to the train station!” </p><p>Nicky groaned. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep, but he yielded to Andy’s call. “Yes, boss,” he called back to her. “We’re up. Ready in a few minutes.”</p><p>Just one more kiss was all he needed from Joe. They clambered out of bed, heading to the bathroom to quickly wash off the remains of their loveplay, then got dressed in yesterday’s clothes, tied their boots, strapped on their weapons, and shrugged on their backpacks.</p><p>Joe opened the door to the little cabin finding Andy and Booker waiting, the two of them gazing at the brightly colored butterfly flitting around the single light bulb that hung above the cabin door.</p><p>“I thought you said six,” Joe grumbled.</p><p>“I went online. The train we want leaves at five,” Booker told him.</p><p>“You went online?” asked Nicky.</p><p>“There’s free wi-fi,” Booker explained. </p><p>“Even here?” Nicky shook his head. With a glance at Joe, he descended the steps. When Joe was beside him, though his hands ached to reach out, he restrained the urge. “We aren’t skipping without paying, are we?”</p><p>“I paid.” Andy sounded shocked but after a pause, she added, “but we’re tapped out now. Gonna have to sneak on the train and ride the rails like hobos.”</p><p>“Wonderful,” Joe said dryly. </p><p>“I like this place,” Nicky remarked. “We should come back here someday.”</p><p>“Only if they sound proof the cabins,” Joe whispered.</p><p>The four of them exchanged glances. “I personally didn’t hear a thing,” Andy told them with a wink.</p><p>That wink left Nicky a bit dubious. As they set off, trusting to the feeble street lights to lead them to the station, he figured that at least thinking about whether anyone other than Andy or Booker had heard them was better than why they’d been set up by Copley. Joe had taken care of his nightmares, and his fears for now. For today, that was all Nicky would think about. </p><p> </p><p>Once they’d jumped aboard the train, they all settled down to get some more sleep. Andy was down by the sliding doors, Booker in a corner with his flask keeping him company. And as always, Joe had his back to the wall, Nicky spooned up against him, wrapped in his arms.</p><p>With any luck, this time they would all sleep without nightmares.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This fic was in part inspired by artwork by Sketchyarchive on Tumblr (https://sketchyarkhive.tumblr.com/post/625067234958721024/so-please-dont-save-something-waste-not-save?fbclid=IwAR1HiFloZUhgeEBNIqAEw6losXDmXQQwz1U-ykFENE3K6CGpmX79RbtV0yM)</p><p>And the hotel, Amarula Lodge, is completely real. They even have a FaceBook page! (https://www.tripadvisor.com/Hotel_Review-g758323-d3253106-Reviews-Amarula_Lodge-Wau_Western_Bahr_el_Ghazal_State.html)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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